To hell with crying, give me laughter

My firm belief is that, humor, by far, is the very best medicine.

Well, it’s been an interesting to start to the semester, to say the least. I started back to school 2 weeks ago, Jack had all his drama last weekend, and then this week I started my clinicals. My life is never boring, I can say that much. It seems that Jack had a horrible virus over the weekend.  So, when I went to get gas (in his car) on Monday, I must have inadvertently been exposed to that stomach bug. Although I never saw him and took pains to leave the food outside and pick up/drop off the car without even saying hello,  it never occurred to me, (yes, I KNOW, I’m a nursing student, but I was a little preoccupied) that the germs might still be in the car from Saturday. Guess what happened? Disaster struck!

Tuesday was fine. I went to school, life carried on, and I felt a sense of normalcy beginning to return. I was extremely anxious about the new clinical rotation on Wednesday morning and had butterflies in my stomach all evening on Tuesday.  I printed out the 35-page orientation packet for my instructor which outlined the work to be done for her and read over it (this is in addition to the orientation packet for all semester 2 students). I wanted to cry most of the evening because of the sheer terror and anxiety I was feeling after reading her expectations. If we miss even one day, we have to write a 20-page paper. Any more than that could mean dismissal from the nursing program with the only exceptions being for death in the family or surgery. I was not alone in my fears. Several members of my group were experiencing the same feelings. Some even cried the night before.  Determined to calm myself, I watched a favorite tv show and went to bed early as planned.

9:30PM. Lights out, I can do this

10:00PM Go to sleep!!

10:30PM sleeping at last

1:30AM. Eyes shot open, look at the clock… not time yet.  Relax, sleep.

2:30AM. Eyes shot open, look at the clock… not time yet. Relax, breathe deep, you’ll wake up. Relax, sleep.

3:30AM. Eyes shot open, RUN LIKE HELL for the toilet, smash leg on cedar chest, jump over baby gate #1, trip over dog bed, jump over baby gate #2, RUN, VOMIT, VOMIT, Vomit, vomit….. Quick! Sit! DIARRHEA!!! Take an immodium. Glass of water. Back to bed.

4:15AM Still time for sleep. Must sleep. 4 alarms set, you will get up.

Clinical Day #1

5AM First alarm goes off, repeat 3:30AM sequence, including immodium #2.  Diarrhea continues relentlessly until I leave at 6:30AM. I pack crackers, soup and 3 water bottles for the day. It’s only 8 hours, I can do this. At least we’re meeting at school first before heading to the hospital. Familiar territory.

6:30AM out the door with stomach grumbling and tail on fire.

7:00AM Get out of car,  walk into the school building and have a small accident on the way to the restroom. Not a good sign. Take immodium #3 in the bathroom while shaking and sweating profusely in the restroom.

The day continues in much the same way…. including a fire alarm, during which we have to exit the building and walk down 4 flights of stairs! Not fun! Lunchtime….Eat 3 crackers, water bottle #3 and immodium #4 in the car at lunch to avoid all smells in the cafeteria. No vomiting or major accidents. I can do this. By now, I haven’t been able to hide my illness, everyone is aware that I not well, including my instructor. She overlooks it and continues, thank goodness! Heading to the hospital…

12:30PM Arrive at hospital for preconference. Get report on our clients, names, dx’s, bx hx, sx, etc… Nausea is returning. Must have been the crackers. I can do this. 2 1/2 more hours. We have to sit in a sunny room. It is *very* warm in there. Chugging 4th water bottle, almost out. Not good at all. Move to the hall to be buzzed into psych unit to meet staff, get a tour and meet with clients.

1:00PM. Hallway is nice and cool. This is good. I can breathe. Nausea is subsiding a little, but stomach is very tight. We get buzzed in. Staff comes to meet us. We stand just inside the door, being introduced. The temperature is very high. It’s a geriatric psych unit. I can smell *EVERYTHING.* The room begins to spin. I am frantically looking for a trashcan. I know that here, every room is locked, including bathrooms. I start to sweat, all the blood is gone from my head, the feeling begins to rise in my throat I can’t stop it…. I interrupt the nurse who is talking and frantically ask for the bathroom – she unlocks the door next to her while she and my group stand right outside. I don’t even know where I put my stuff, I don’t close the door, I just find the toilet and VOMIT, VOMIT, VOMIT!!! It’s so powerful that I can’t stop the diarrhea from going. It’s running down my legs!!!!! OMG!!! Everyone is right outside. Here I am sick as a dog and all I can think about is how to recover gracefully and get the hell out of here! Those are my classmates, my instructor, and the people I am going to have to work with for the next 6 weeks!!! I gathered myself and my stuff as best I could and came out. Everyone was standing there looking at me. I just apologized and told my instructor I had to go. She just looked at me. I told her I was sick and needed to go. She asked if I was okay and I said I needed to talk to her. I pulled her in the bathroom and told her I threw up and “went” all down my pants. LOL How professional! Honestly, it was all I could muster at that point. She said, “Okay honey, are you okay to drive?” Oh yes! I just need to go home! I cried and begged her not give me a 20-page paper! LOL She said, “We’ll worry about that later. Just call me as soon as you get home. I want to know you made it okay.” Maybe I looked bad? I don’t know, but she was obviously concerned.  I apologized to everyone in the group in my humiliation and tried to run out of there. In the midst of the chaos a nurse came up to my instructor and said that the state inspector was right there at the nurse’s station behind us. DOH!!!

Okay, so now that I had escaped, it was time to walk my poopy butt down the elevator, through the hospital, across the street, through the other building, up the elevator, through the parking garage, and then drive it home. My life continued in much the same fashion with Immodiums #5 and #6, ginger ale, and 3 crackers until the next morning when I was up at 5AM to do it all again.

This is exactly how I felt during clinicals, especially when my friend kept telling me I needed to eat SOMEthing while she swore she’d eat her asparagus and hamburger a few chairs away from me… bluhhhhhhh (From the movie Bridesmaids **Spoiler alert if plan to see it)

Clinical Day #2

This was a far, far better experience. I was able to hold down chicken noodle soup and crackers for lunch and drank ginger ale all day. I felt quite a bit better. I still had a touch of diarrhea in the morning, but it had mostly waned by mid-day. I was finally able to meet with my client and had an overall pleasant experience throughout the day – and nothing was said about my humiliation from the day before other than wishes for a speedy recovery.  On an unrelated note, my instructor told me later in the day how relieved she was that I had a good experience with my client because, after she saw her prior interactions with staff, she was thinking to herself, “Oh WHAT have I DONE to Sandy?!” *gulp* That explains why she was hovering over me and wanted to be there when I interviewed with her (but was called away and couldn’t be present. She hadn’t done that with anyone else). Hmmmmm…. My client was here because she assaulted a resident, was aggressive with staff, and was d/c’d from her facility to this unit for posturing to assault staff. Nice. My experience was that she was initially resistant, but warmed to me and was open to working with me on her goal, “anger issues.” I’d say that’s on target. Now that I’ve learned to be more in tune, it’s interesting to see how I was able to reach her and get her to go from being resistant with her face turned and body pivoted away from me to facing me, making eye contact and seemingly open to working with me.  Should be a VERY interesting rotation. Um, suffice it to say that, with my current luck, if anyone will be assaulted, it will be me. BUT, here’s the beauty in the weeds…. I bet we have a breakthrough. LOL I have more crap happen in my life, but it seems like there’s ALWAYS an upside.

Actually, I have already learned so much from just 2 weeks in school and 2 days in clinicals! As I was studying this morning, EVERYTHING started to click. I realized how lucky I am to be one of the people with psych during the first rotation. Everything we’re studying for Tuesday’s test, I can already relate to my patient and the clinical setting. I was able to watch group therapy, observe various clients with different disorders and their behaviors both on an individual basis and their interactions together, sit in on treatment planning with the entire team collaborating, do a one-on-one with my own client, and a lot of other fascinating things in just one day!! I am now so incredibly excited about this semester. Yes, it will be intense and extremely labor intensive, but also very fulfilling and FULL of learning opportunities that I am ready to soak up like a sponge!

Beauty In The Weeds

So here’s to hoping you can laugh instead of cry too!

Just remember: always, always try to find beauty in the weeds,

~Sandy

Just when you thought it was safe….

…to come out, life throws you a curve ball and you’re on the run, living that with that sense of “fight or flight” and in “survival mode” again.  That’s where I am – AGAIN. I thought it was safe. I managed to get my life back in order. I laid the ground rules with the people in my life – AGAIN. I set some healthy boundaries, got myself into a good place, started on some adjunct meds, started therapy, started school, etc… Things were going pretty well. Then the bomb hit.

On New Year’s Eve, a close family member whom I dearly love (who has been one of my main stressors over the last few months) announced that he is addicted to prescription pain medication due to a real, chronic medical problem. We’ll call this person my brother Jack  (and since I don’t have a brother, this should be a safe alternative and make it easy for me to reference.) Jack has been borrowing money from me for the last 4 months in LARGE quantities, already borrowing almost my entire grant for the year since September. Since I am unemployed and living off of loans and grants, this has caused me significant stress and hardship. When he called me on New Year’s Eve, I had already decided that I was going to have the difficult conversation and cut him off. I had no idea that’s why he was borrowing so much money, but enough was enough. Needless to say, I was blown away when I found out why. I had no idea he had been buying drugs on the street or living this secret life. He informed me that he was going to go for treatment at the end of January, but that, in the meantime, there was no money for the house payment, food, car insurance, etc…  I put my foot down and said no. No more. All of those things are just STUFF. If the car goes back, you’ll make it. If the house goes, you can rent. At that point, I didn’t even have enough money myself to pay for my uniforms, books, car insurance, nothing. *I* couldn’t even make it without borrowing from my boyfriend! Tough love sucks, let me tell you.

During the coming weeks, Jack was suffering. He was scraping money together from other family members – and had been , apparently, during all this time. He called me Thursday and asked for more money, but I refused. He did get more money from some others to help pay car insurance and several bills – and enough drugs – just to make it until Friday to keep from losing his job and hold off withdrawl until he could check into rehab on Friday.  He managed all the way until this weekend when he was able to check in, which made me very proud. He actually did it!

Saturday, I received numerous calls throughout the day. Crying, desperation, begging, threatening, begging me to come get him. I encouraged, supported, prodded, refused to come. All of the rest of us were talking on the phone back and forth, but apparently, I was the only one *he* could reach by phone until the end of the day –  when he checked out. I was devastated.  I was angry, resentful, disappointed. After all the encouragement he had offered me through MY hospitalizations. All the support through MY therapy – and HE didn’t even stay. He said he would do it at home and go to outpatient therapy.

Yesterday, Sunday, I called in the evening to check on him and he was sick as could be. Vomiting, diarrhea, shortness of breath, weakness… the whole 9 yards. At least he didn’t go back to the drugs. Today, I had to take over food, fill the car with gas, and get an Ativan prescription. More money gone – over $100. I am such a wimp. I swore no more money, but when I know he’s detoxing, how can I not help? Yesterday I went to a meeting at the Token club. Today, I left him a token – 24 hours clean. Another family member and I will be attending his first NA meeting with him later this week. *We* plan to go to AlAnon. I guess that’s where we belong. I don’t know. I don’t know how all this works and I don’t even know who to ask or where to start. I am so angry with him for leaving early because we ALL needed the resources they could have offered us. He needed to know how to change his life and WE needed to know how to help. Do we push or not push? Do we let him do what he wants and back off? Is NA the same as AA? Is there something other than AlAnon for NA family members? Where do we start? Are there groups or is NA it? Where do we find these resources? Who can help us? I am so lost!

My diarrhea is back with a vengeance. I am a nervous wreck again. I was actually feeling better over the last few weeks. I started school last week. We had a month’s worth of lectures in 4 days because they front loaded the semester. By tomorrow, it’ll be 5 weeks worth of material and my first major exam is next Tuesday. I have clinicals starting on Wednesday and again on Thursday. I have to be up by 5Am to be there by 7AM. I haven’t managed to get much of anything done on my assignments this weekend because of all the calling back and forth over Jack, as well as the extreme anxiety I’ve been feeling over the whole thing. I’m 1 week into school and already behind. This is strangely reminiscent of last semester.

Sometimes God calms the storm...Sometimes He lets the storm rage and calms His child.

Exactly how is it that my life never seems to be about ME at all? My boyfriend forced me to get off the phone last night, stop talking about it, eat dinner, and watch a movie. He said enough was enough. It’s Jack’s problem, not yours and you need to walk away. I don’t think anyone understands how this kind of thing affects me. Why is that? It just tears me up. If I just carry on with my life and leave it alone, does that mean I don’t care or love people? How do I do that? I always seem to be the one who doesn’t love enough, but I really get tired of giving so much that I am broke all the time. I’m tired of having gastric problems so much that my tail is raw. I’m tired of stressing to the point of shaking. I’m tired of the insanity. And I’m tired of feeling like my life just isn’t even my own. Last semester it was my boyfriend and his family and I let them consume my life. This semester it’s MY family. If I refuse to let it consume me again, does that mean I love them less? I haven’t heard back from the place I went for therapy. I had an initial visit and then they’re supposed to call me back to let me know if I am eligible to be a client. I think I’ll call them today. These are exactly the kinds of things I need them to help me with. I need help sticking to my guns – and not be consumed by the guilt.

*sigh* I am just really, really tired of living this way.

JUST when I was getting back on track.

Keep Your Head Up

What a BUSY, BUSY time I’ve had lately! I finished my first semester of nursing – with an “A” nonetheless!! I learned so much it’s phenomenal. I think I’ll make a good nurse, I really do. I have a long, long way to go and a short time to get there. Only 3 more semesters to go til I take the test to be an RN! I start back to school this Friday and I am so anxious. I will be focusing on psych (I should be really good at that! – LOL) and more med-surg. Last semester was LTC and med-surg. I did one clinical rotation of each. It was quite an experience, to say the least. I heard through the grapevine that one of my instructors gave me one HELLUVA compliment the other day… she and a friend of mine were talking about this semester and how tough it’s going to be. My friend mentioned to her that I managed to “luck out” and get the  clinical instructor from hell for my psych rotation.  She told my friend that if anyone could handle it, it would be me. She told her, “Sandy is awesome. She’s incredibly smart and she practically RAN clinicals – she could have done it without either of us (instructors) even being there. She’ll be fine.”  Wow. She didn’t say that for my benefit; I wasn’t even THERE!

The semester was incredibly difficult for me, if for no other reason, because of the stressors in my personal life were nearly out of control. Still, I managed to do fine and pull an A out of the hat. In fact, on our final exam, the national HESI exam, I scored better than 94% of the people in the NATION! It actually brought my semester grade up from a high B to the A I was wanting. I am proud as a peacock! I know I can make it through this semester, I am just dreading the stress, exhaustion, work, and sleeplessness. If I could just get my personal life in order, I wouldn’t be so stressed and overwhelmed about the whole thing.

About that personal life…. I have taken steps to try to get things to where they need to be. I have revealed the “big secret” here now, so you know. I have really struggled with depression over the last few weeks – and maybe longer. I didn’t even recognize it until it was WAY bad. Pretty bad given that I’ve been dealing with bipolar for so long, that even with all of my experience, *I* didn’t see it for what it was.  Sometimes you just can’t see the forest for the trees.  BUT, the important thing is, I asked for help and got myself back into therapy. I have really been smart (and lucky!) and found lots of resources so that, even without my health insurance (since I am now jobless), I can get the help I need. I am so excited about this!

Now I have a new focus, goals, and a mission. I have help to make these things happen and who knows where I’ll be in the next few months? Maybe a whole new life! I’m learning to say NO. I’m not letting the people I love and who love me take advantage of me. I’m learning to love and value myself – and insisting that the people in my life do the same! Most importantly, I’m making the decision that if they CAN’T do that, *I* am going to find the strength to walk away. Oh, and I’ve lost almost 45 pounds since last March – so things are looking up.

I’m gonna keep my head up. I’m gonna turn out fine. And I’m gonna KEEP singing that until I SEE that it’s true. I believe it, I just want to SEE it.

Here’s to a happier, HEALTHIER 2012!

Cheers,

Sandy